


Before it Breaks: On Differences and Doubts

by Aeolist



Series: Before it Breaks [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeolist/pseuds/Aeolist
Summary: Sequel to Before it Breaks, so you may want to give that a read first. Established OT3 Ten/Rose/Tentoo.Rose and the Doctors are learning to navigate their relationship. The core of it was great, amazing even, but once in a while Rose found herself preoccupied with keeping the details straight. Like how to tell them apart.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Before it Breaks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571215
Comments: 122
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to scullywolf and crazygirlne stepping in for the beta LITERALLY FIVE YEARS after I finished the last one.
> 
> If you haven't read _Before it Breaks_ and _Before it Breaks: Clarity In Cardiff_ , please go check those out first and this will make more sense.
> 
> This story is fully drafted. I'll post another chapter every other day until it's up. It's six chapters. The final chapter has smut but the story will still make sense if you skip that!
> 
> Also note, this story sort of ignores Torchwood continuity because I dislike that all of Jack’s friends died.

He was inclined to watch more. No, she didn’t mean that in the dirty way, no matter what Jack would make of the comment. But that was one way to tell them apart. The Doctor in blue was always in the middle of the action, even around the TARDIS. He was cooking their meals, catapulting himself onto the couch for movie night (literally, once), and was the first to make a leap towards the loo in the morning (“My bladder gets full so much faster,” he’d complain, shuffling past the both of them). 

It was in those moments that the Doctor in brown hung back, watched, looking like he was enjoying the moment. Perhaps imagining himself as an onlooker, and imagining the Doctor in blue as himself. Like he was one man. 

When she thought about it, she hoped that wasn’t what he was doing.

But that  _ was _ one way she could tell.

It used to be easier, in the beginning, which was odd because they were more the same then (they grew further apart every day as they lived different experiences -- that’s what they’d tell her all the time) and yet, it was easier then. It was always like one Doctor was in a great mood, one in a foul one. Easy peasy. 

Now, it wasn’t always easy to tell. The failsafe way was, of course, the heartbeats. Hearts beats. The physiological. But you could only tell up close. She made that mistake before --

(One morning, last month, she woke up and groggily made her way into the ensuite. The Doctor stood with his back to her, at the sink, brushing his teeth and humming a tune she didn’t recognise. He was dressed only in navy blue pants and his oxford, buttons undone. He looked even more human than ten percent, with his hair mussed and his eyes still a little bleary. 

She took a second to enjoy the view, pausing in the doorway before stepping inside.

He was smiling to himself, and then smiled at her when he saw her in the mirror, and so she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him from behind. Breaking out into a grin, he hummed even louder, and rocked so that she’d have no choice but to move with him.

  
Rose laughed, and he craned his neck towards her, half turning around, like he wanted to pop a kiss on her lips, nevermind that he was still brushing his teeth. Dropping down from her tiptoes, she ducked away from his mouth and rested her cheek on his back. 

She was about to ask him where Brownie was (she only ever called them by their nicknames when they  _ weren’t _ together; they each could tolerate the  _ other _ being called it, but not them, oh no) when she realised she could feel the double-rhythm of his hearts through the thin fabric of the shirt and her face grew hot with the embarrassment of narrowly avoiding the mistake --

He  _ was _ Brownie. 

She didn’t realise at first. 

Because he was happy. 

Oh.

So instead, she said, “I love you,” and he said, “oooooo toooo,” in his hummingest voice, flashed her a frothy grin, bent down, and spit into the sink.)

Now she would always press her cheek to their chests or their backs when she could. She knew they wouldn’t take it personally if she mixed them up but it was a point of pride, it was imperative, even, that she hadn’t made that mistake out loud. So she memorised the differences.

Rose sometimes had to pay attention to tell, because happily some of the time they were  _ not _ in their blue and brown suits and, as she learned early on, they did not color code their pants.

-

This morning, it was easy to tell that the Doctor in brown was the one whose arms she woke up in, because of the fast and delicate thrumming of his hearts against her back and the meandering movement of his breathing. She opened her eyes to find the rest of the bed empty, artificial sunbeams from a non-existent skylight growing gradually brighter as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes.

“Is it morning?” She knew that time was relative, but then so was the question.

“Depends. You’ve been asleep seven hours and twenty-two minutes.” His voice was low and scratchy. “Are you still tired?”

“I dunno.” She turned over in his arms, slid her arm around him, looked up so her face was very close to his. “Think I’m all right. You? Did you sleep?”

“Me?” He scrunched up his nose. “Naah. Just came in to rest my eyes an hour ago. We’re monitoring some repairs so he took over once he was up.” 

To Rose, each Doctor usually called the other “he” or “him.” To others, they called each other ‘the Doctor’ without any hesitation, but on the TARDIS, it being just the three of them, there was really only one “he” that wasn’t the “he” who was speaking. 

  
That is, unless they were both not speaking, because they were speaking wordlessly to each other. In the months since they’d sorted everything between them, the Doctor in blue was slowly getting better at sending detailed messages to the Doctor in brown, instead of only being able to receive them. It was sometimes hard for her to tell when they were ‘talking’ and when they weren’t.

Now, Rose asked: “What do you reckon we should do today? It’s been a while since we’ve been to--”

“Shh! Wait!” The Doctor clasped a hand over her mouth. “Do you hear that?”

“Mmm-mmm.” She shook her head. 

“I think… it’s coming…” He released his grip on her mouth, letting his hand drift until it met her backside. “From down here.” 

She smoothed out a wayward hair along his eyebrow and leaned in closer. “I know you’re trying to be flirty right now but it sort of sounds like you’re saying you heard me pass gas.”

“Roooose. C’mon.” He rolled her underneath him, settling on top of her with his forearms holding most of his weight. “I am  _ extremely  _ flirty. There are literal poems,  _ sonnets _ , written about my flirting, and I’ll have you know that one author is someone you know quite well — well, not personally, but by his prolific reputation and—”

“Doctor.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He made a high, happy sound in his throat and obliged.

\--

Some time later, they stopped by the galley to grab a quick breakfast. She took an extra banana for the Doctor in blue. Even if he’d already eaten, he’d want it.

(That was another way to tell them apart, the eating. Blueberry was always hungry and he rarely took his time eating, almost never savored what he shoved into his face. Brownie would sometimes look over at her and say something like, “Please tell me that’s not what I look like,” and the Doctor in blue might respond, “Ooo wish,” munching away the whole time. That was an early tip for her when she was getting used to everything: the eating, the ravenousness, the constant snacking. Odds were, if a Doctor was walking around with a snack in his hand, it was the part-human Doctor, regardless of how he was adorned.) 

After, they made their way to the console room. The Doctor in blue was seated on the edge of the grating, swinging his legs. When he saw them coming down the corridor, he popped up in a smooth motion, then walked to them, light on the balls of his feet.

“Readings all look tip-top,” he said. “Think she’ll need a test ride soon. What do you reckon? Mmm, ta!” (She had handed him the banana.)

Both turned to look at her. The one in brown spoke, since the other’s mouth was full. “Rose?”

“Hmm?”

  
“What’ll it be: Earth or another world? Past or future?”

“Right-o, Rose, what’s your fancy?” That was the Doctor in blue. (He was more inclined to use silly phrases, particularly those ending in the letter o.) She looked at him and was mildly alarmed to find him putting the banana peel into his pocket.

Still, she’d never fully get used to having all of time and space at her fingertips, and two hands to hold along the way.

“I dunno,” she said, letting herself break out into a grin. “Surprise me?”

\--

Rose was running. “This wasn’t what I meant when I said surprise me!”

She stumbled, trying to point the sonic at the purple mist creeping up behind her. Did it touch her ankle for a second, there? She didn’t feel anything, but it was close.

Volea 2A, the year 37,500.

It was supposed to be a scenic mountain town overlooking a legendary rainforest, but _actually_ the rainforest was now producing a strange purple mist, and the mist was putting the townspeople to sleep, and the only way to stop it was to go _into_ the rainforest using the correct frequency on the sonic to stop the reproductive phase of the invasive plant causing the mist, after which the townspeople would be able to remove the plant, but the rainforest was really quite bumpy and covered in thick, tangled roots, and, meanwhile, the townspeople were maybe, just maybe, going to stay asleep forever if someone didn’t start working on waking them, so she and Blueberry were dealing with the mist while Brownie--

She stumbled again, and the Doctor in blue caught her by her shoulders, briefly looking her up and down for a second without missing a step of his own.

“Rose, when is this  _ not _ the type of surprise we end up with?” He pointed at a patch of purple. “Watch out. Don’t let it touch you!”

She sidestepped some nasty spiked vines.

“I dunno, that moon near Cassiopeia went all right.”

“That moon was a  _ follow-up visit _ , that hardly counts, the entire reason we were there the first time was to save--”

“Doctor!” She pulled hard at his sleeve, forcing both of them to skid to a stop (another difference, it was easier to manhandle the Doctor in blue - the one in brown somehow felt  _ denser  _ to her in spite of eating so much less).

The mist was appearing in front of them as well. She could smell it, it smelled like sage, maybe, or some other herb.

“All right,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Rose, adjust the frequency to 226c, and point it up at the sky on my count. We’ll just have to do this the hard way. Ready?”

She stood as close to him as possible and nodded, watching the purple advance as she raised her hand in the air.

“One… two… THREE!”

\--

“Well. That was easy!” The Doctor jammed his hands into his blue pockets, looking between Rose and the other.

Rose and the Doctor in brown were sat on the front steps of city hall, watching the townspeople chatter amongst themselves. The people were hugging each other, laughing nervously, looking for loved ones who had just been awakened. 

The Doctor in blue had a smudge of reddish dirt across his forehead. The Doctor in brown did not.

“I’m not sure I’d put it that way,” Rose said.

“Well, we’ve had worse.” The Doctor in brown shrugged.

“Much worse,” the Doctor in blue agreed.

“Suppose you’re right,” Rose said.

“Still! Who doesn’t like a bit of adventure on a Thursday. Not too much adventure. Just a little tidbit, a nibble of an adventure.” The Doctor in blue looked at the other. “Hold on. It is Thursday, isn’t it?”

“It’s Thursday on Earth, here it’s--”

“Tygabaniganijan, yes, on a sixteen day week, but the point is--”

“That your time sense is working, right--”

“Right! And, Rose, really, for a Thursday this was--”

“Easy,” the Doctor in brown said.

“Easy peasy,” the Doctor in blue finished.

“Doctors! Rose!” Yol, the Volean High Priestx, was walking in their direction, their deep navy, floor-length robes billowing out behind them. “The celebration is in two hours. We insist that you stay. We want to thank you for all of your help.”

“ _ Well _ \--”

“It’s _ really  _ up to--”

They both stopped. Turned to look at Rose.

“Rose?” 

She considered it for a second. “I’ve never minded a bit of celebration on a Thursday. Or a--”

Both Doctors chimed in: “Tygabaniganijan.” 

“Wonderful.” Yol leaned down to where Rose and the Doctor in brown were sitting. They placed one hand on Rose’s shoulder, the other on the Doctor in brown, and looked up at the Doctor in blue. “We’ve got soaps and salves so you can get clean, and fresh robes for you to change into. Please, use my home. It’s there, on the corner.”

“Thank you,” Rose said, placing her hand on top of the Priestx. 

“Robes?” the Doctor in blue asked. “Like, long, billowing robes? Like the ones you’ve got on?”

  
“Doctor,” Rose started.

“We don’t really need--” the other continued.

“Our suits are really much more our--”

“No need to be so humble. Please. Get cleaned up,” Yol interrupted. “Rest for a little while, and then dress. They’re yours to keep. We insist. It honors us.”

“C’mon,” Rose said, patting the Priestx’s hand once more and standing. “Robes and Rose. It’s perfect.”

\--

Rose could hear the Doctors in the parlor from where she stood in the narrow bedroom, finishing the ribbons across the torso of her robe as she looked in the mirror. She still smelled sage, even after she’d bathed. She’d given her dirty clothes to the Doctor in brown, who’d taken all of their soiled items to the TARDIS, so she knew the smell wasn’t her - or, she knew she was clean, at any rate.

“You look daft.”

“ _ I _ look daft! Look at you.”

“I didn’t say I  _ didn’t _ look daft.  _ We _ look daft. How’s that?”

“Accurate. Insightful. One might even say perspicacious.”

“Oh, I would definitely say perspicacious.”

“Would you?”   
  
“I would.”

“Oi.” Rose stepped into the parlor, looking down at her own bright yellow robe, dotted down the front and sides with tiny blue buttons and ribbons. “Do I look daft?” 

“Rose, Rose, Rose,” the Doctor said, stepping towards her (Blueberry, definitely, he still had a little smudge on his forehead). 

“Yes?” She looked up at him.

“Don’t be bound by such a narrow 21st century Earth mentality. What matters isn’t how you  _ look _ . What matters is what’s inside... Particularly since what’s outside on you looks like a set of Jackie’s yellow drapes.”

She snorted. “All right, let’s have a look at us, shall we? See how daft we are.” 

Grabbing the part-human’s Doctor’s hand, then passing by the other and grabbing him by his robe sleeve as well, she pulled them into the narrow room and up to the mirror covering one wall. Both Doctors were dressed identically in deep red robes, with five silver buttons across the left shoulder to the right hip. She turned to the part-human Doctor and brought her sleeve up to his forehead, rubbing off the smudge of red dirt, nevermind the spike of  _ something _ it sent through her that they now looked exactly the same. She had other ways to tell.

“There. Perfect.”

She knew she’d made the right choice when his eyes softened and he bent down to give her a kiss. She smiled and turned to the other Doctor, who did the same.

\--

The part-human Doctor ( _ the Doctor not currently in blue) _ twirled her slowly around the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the temple, which was serving as a last minute party venue. There were several Voleans with stringed instruments on the platform at the front, keeping a steady one-two-three thrumming around them. The other Doctor was talking to a young Volean, and Rose watched him every time the dancing circled them into her view. 

Brownie had this way of intensely listening to strangers. Sometimes. If you caught him in the right mood, he could be infinitely patient, always looking for the particular humanity (for lack of a better word) he found in every being he met. Blueberry had that too, to a limit, but to Rose it felt like he’d usually be the first one breaking off to look for her. 

Maybe it was because he was running to her when he was shot, during that awful moment that resulted in his creation. It was never that long before he was running to her again.

“They look human,” Rose said, watching the band. The herbal smell in the air was strong in here too.

“They are human,” the Doctor-not-in-blue said. “Well,  _ ish _ . There’s always a bit of a mix going on after you lot start moving off-world.”

“How’d they get here?” Rose asked. “We’re off by the Triangulum Galaxy, right? Not exactly close.” 

“Exploration, maybe? Settling into a new society without any trousers...” He looked down at his robe with a mildly unhappy expression, then back at her. “Oh, did you mean  _ how- _ how? Long-range fission space travel with chronostasis would be my guess.” He sniffed. “Though, to be fair, I’ve never looked into it.”

“Mm,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. She could hear the one-beat-heartbeat, see the quicker breathing (though it was slow and relaxed, for him). 

“You could ask him later,” he suggested, indicating the other Doctor with a tilt of his head. “He’ll probably find out.”

She looked up again - now the other Doctor was talking to three Voleans, gathered around him. “D’ya think he’s giving us space?”

“Don’t think so. Don’t think it’s talking out of turn to say that he feels … like he wants to be talking, connecting. Learning. I feel it humming, up here.” He tapped his temple, then stopped to dip Rose. “I get like that sometimes, too.”

“You don’t say.”

“Why?” He sounded like he was trying to be casual. “Do you want space? For us? Or for the two of you?”

She was always surprised by how they took it all in stride, even though she’d been assured -- by them, by Jack -- that their spectrum of acceptable relationships was broader than hers. That this thing they were doing was not particularly wild to them.

It was to her, sometimes, still.

“Nah. Just the kind up there.” She gestured up with her head, then put it back down on his shoulder.

“Jolly good,” the Doctor said, and dropped a kiss on her hair.

\--

Eventually she did need space. For the loo. 

They’d danced, eaten, drank (Volean lavender tea, delicious, even if it tasted of the sage scent that wouldn’t go away), and the night was winding down. There weren’t speeches, thankfully. Just new friends, and an offer of permanent accommodation in Volea. 

As she walked back from the loo, she saw her Doctors standing at the temple’s ornate door, waiting for her. She joined them, and the three of them began walking down the pathway that led from there to the main road. 

They said their goodbyes to Yol and other Voleans, eventually moving off the road to take a worn trail towards the edge of the rainforest where they’d parked the TARDIS.

It was dark now, harder to see where her feet were falling. She felt herself slowing down, her breathing, her mind, maybe her pulse. Definitely her walk. The Doctors were meandering ahead. They were talking to each other or maybe just talking to talk, and she was tuning it out. 

Was she tired? Had she been tired before? 

It was always so hard to tell, how long they’d been awake, running. But today... She’d woken up today, hadn’t she? It was a Thursday? Or, a Tygabani--something. They hadn’t been running for days, this time, had they?

Maybe it was her head, that smell, it was hurting now. That smell, the herb smell, it wouldn’t leave, it was in the tea, in the temple, in the forest, on her fresh robes--

“Rose?” 

One of them was saying her name. She looked up. They were at the entrance of the TARDIS now. 

“Which one--” She didn’t mean to say that. Which one. Which one was talking to her?

  
“Are you all right?” 

“Um, I don’t...” Know. Whether it was the same Doctor who had spoken. If that was the other Doctor speaking now. The smudge was gone from their foreheads, the clothes the same, the darkness masking their breathing, their hearts too far away to hear, which -- she lost track. She lost track of who.

“Rose.” This time the voice, the voices, were more serious. She closed her eyes, trying to regroup. When she opened them again, she found two identical Doctor-faces in her field of vision. “Let’s get into the TARDIS, eh?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell, right now, I can’t tell which--” (she didn’t want to use the word Doctor) “--who, who you are--”

“Rose, it’s okay, let’s--”

The world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to scullywolf & crazygirlne for the support, feedback, hand holding, and beta work.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has read or commented. It's surprising and incredibly kind that anyone would notice that I'm writing again in this verse. Happy Christmas!

She woke up in their bed. 

One Doctor was seated on its edge, and the other had pulled a chair over from the desk and sat on it beside the bed. They were watching her, but they looked deep in thought, which probably meant there was some degree of wordless communication happening between them.

“Rose.” The Doctor on the bed shifted closer to her. “How’s your head?”

She scooted up slightly. She had to study them, what were they wearing -- she lost track, before, she had to figure it out now. Trousers, and white t-shirts, both of them. The lights were low, making it hard to tell what color the trousers were, but --

“Rose?” 

She looked up at them, not wanting to be caught out still being unsure. “I think I’m still feeling a little foggy, but, fine. I don’t smell sage anymore.”

“Sage?” He paused. “There must be manool in the gaseous compound, or eucalyptol. Maybe once you’re affected, it stays with you.” The one in the chair got up, sat next to her. He reached towards her, but then stopped. “May I?” 

“‘Course.” 

He settled himself over her and pressed his fingers gently to her temples, then her throat, then down to her underarms. Up close, she could see that his trousers were brown, and relief settled in her stomach. Now she knew.

“One fifteen b, as well, eh, on the sonic?” the other Doctor said from his edge of the bed.

“It’s probably not necessary.”

“Humour us, will you? Know you also want to check.”

The Doctor in brown pulled a sonic screwdriver from his pocket and lightly scanned at the same places he’d touched. The buzzing sound seemed to be helping her grow more alert.

“I’m fine, really,” she said, letting him finish, and then pushing herself up more fully into a seated position. He settled next to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Must’ve been the fog touched me, is all.”

The Doctor in blue ran his hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “I was watching for it. I didn’t see it touch you. I should’ve paid closer attention. We could’ve stopped it in the first place.”

“I’m fine, it’s really not a big deal. I just got a little loopy.”

“I’d call that more than a little ‘loopy,’” the Doctor in blue replied.

Embarrassment stung in Rose’s gut: they’d both heard her confusing them. She tried to cover.

“I was -- out of it. Right. I know that. But we cured everyone, you knew what the cure was -- it’s fine, an easy fix.”

“Rose.” The Doctor in blue moved closer to her from the edge of the bed. “How do I say this? The level of care and attention we put into curing an entire town of people is -- well, there’s no one out there who does a better job of it, really; we’re brilliant. But all of that care, all of that effort, all of that attention, doesn’t in the least compare to what we feel compelled to do when it’s  _ you. _ ”

The Doctor in blue grabbed her hand, continuing. “We can analyse the symptoms and cook up a cure lickety split, save the day, but... For you, we need to be one hundred percent sure that you will be one hundred percent okay.”

The Doctor in brown had got silent, watching them again, but now he spoke, face grave. “We can’t always save everyone. We do our best. Sometimes we have to work quickly and worry about the details later. But not saving  _ you _ is not an option.”

Rose remembered months of jumping with the dimension cannon, never finding the right universe, only finding places where he’d never been, except for the one pocket universe where he was dead. What it was like, every universe without him, and then when she finally found him, she watched him shot down in front of her.

“I get it,” Rose said. “I do. But I’m fine.”

More than fine. Now, she had an embarrassment of riches in addition to the actual embarrassment she was feeling about the night before, but she did understand. Losing either of them was not an option.

“So, if you get it, then you won’t mind a few more scans!” The Doctor in blue flashed her a bright grin and pulled his own sonic from his pocket.

She scrunched up her nose. “Can I get a cuppa first? And maybe the loo?”

“Actually, that reminds me, let me, just, first, I’ve been waiting for you to--” The Doctor in blue popped up, finishing his sentence as he ran from the room into the ensuite. “--wake up.”

\--

She was fine. 

The scans showed that she was fine. She understood what the readings should be for her heart, her breathing, even her accelerated 50th century ultracomputed tomography, all of it. She’d had enough medical training now to know she was fine, even without the fact that she felt it.

So then why were they hunched over together the next morning, sat at the table in the galley, looking at a large, slim tablet covered in Gallifreyan? They didn’t usually study things together, outside of world-saving-scenarios.

“Morning,” the Doctor in blue said as she walked in, standing up and popping a kiss on her mouth. It felt like distraction.

“What’s that?” Rose asked.

“This?” The Doctor in brown had the tablet now, but he was folding it up and putting it into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. “Nothing. Just running some calculations.”

“On?”

“Boring stuff,” the one in blue said. At her look, he continued. “Mathematical models. Comparisons between theorems from the 56th and 78th centuries. Trying to figure out which one’s sounder.”

“Mathematical models about what?”

“Y’know, math. Rose, we have to do something to entertain ourselves when you sleep.”

She knew that was all she was going to get from them. “Is that right? I thought that’s when you spend time preening in the wardrobe and fighting over who gets to wear your overcoat the next day.” 

The Doctor in blue scoffed. “Rose, we don’t fight about--”

“There’s nothing _ to  _ fight about, it’s  _ my _ coat and sometimes I let you wear it--”

“Your coat? It’s ours! We were one person when we got the coat--”

“Yep! We were both  _ me _ when we got the coat. Ergo, it’s mine.”

“And I I was also you,  _ ergo _ \--”

“You were a hand in a jar.”

“So? Janis Joplin would’ve been quite keen to give her coat to a hand in a jar. What’s more rock ‘n’ roll than a hand in a jar?” 

“I can think of plenty of things more rock ‘n’ roll than a hand in a jar.”

“Name one!”

“Doctors,” Rose interjected. “Can’t we just go visit Janis Joplin and ask her where she got the coat, and then go get another one? S’not like we’ve got something else to do today.”

They spoke at once, shooting her the same look of patient dismissal. “Rose, that’s not the point.”

“And the timelines are so tricky,” the Doctor in blue said. “We’re not sure when exactly it was that we saw her, for one thing, and if we came too early, she might never join Big Brother and the Holding Company. Although,” he continued, “that might be a good thing.”

“Well, no. She has to. Woodstock is a fixed point,” the Doctor in brown added.

“It  _ is _ a fixed point,” the Doctor in blue conceded.

  
“Better not to risk it.”

“Better just to  _ share _ .”

“Did you used to do all this in your head, all the time?” Rose asked them.

They stopped for a beat, looking at her. 

“Kind of,” the Doctor in blue said.

“Yeah, suppose, sometimes.”

“Except for having to share the coat.”

“Well, except for when we run into ourselves,” the Doctor in brown said. “Sometimes you  _ want _ to force your coat on yourself, like when you see that the other you used to wear a sprig of celery on your lapel.”

“Rose, can you fetch me a sprig of celery?” the Doctor in blue asked. “I have an idea.”

“My mum’s right, you two are nutters,” Rose said. She made her way over to the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, then the cereal, instead. 

She got to the cabinet, was about to grab two bowls, and then had to look over at them. “D’ya both want some?” 

“Nah, none for me,” the Doctor in brown said, as the one in blue shot her a thumbs up.

She grabbed two bowls, poured, and placed one bowl in front of the Doctor in blue before sitting down at the table. The Doctor tucked in, and the one in brown sat in silence, waiting for them to finish.

Rose lost herself in thought. Those moments were tougher for her. What she had really meant was, ‘Brownie, do you want any cereal?’ (She knew Blueberry did, and did not need to ask.) But that question couldn’t be asked, not without a name differentiator for each of them that she was actually free to use with them both. And she couldn’t have a name differentiator for them without--

Without acknowledging out loud that they were not the same. They were separate, now. Sometimes, they needed to be referred to separately, and sharing one name, well, didn’t exactly lend itself to that.

Yet, at the same time, her stomach still flipped in shame when she thought about the night before, not knowing who was who, and showing them that she’d lost track. She paused, spoon in hand, and gave herself a second to let the shame fizzle away before she resumed eating.

She had to keep them separate, remember their individual conversations, pay attention to who was who, support them individually, make them each feel loved -- while also making them feel acknowledged as the Doctor (that is, making the Doctor in blue feel acknowledged as the Doctor). She always had to make it clear that she viewed him as just as much the Doctor as the one who didn’t used to be a hand in a jar.

For now, the best she could do was pose the same question to them both, and never ever mix them up. (Her stomach flipped again. Her record was broken, she forgot for a second, it was broken now, nothing she could do.) She had to make herself take a deep breath.

When she finished her bowl, she looked up to find the two of them wearing that same look on their faces as when she first walked in - wordless communication. She got up to put the bowl into the sink, to go back to their room and brush her teeth.

She’d ask them about it later.

\--

When she was done washing up, they weren’t in the galley, and she tried the console room next, but it was empty as well.

She found them in the study. Each was sat in one of the plush leather chairs, the Doctor in blue wore their specs, a book in his hand, while the one in brown had the tablet again. They both looked deep in thought, or like they were having a telepathic chat. As she walked in, she tried to glance at what they were reading, but it was in Gallifreyan again. She’d learned so much, since she’d left them, but those circles and crescents were still beyond her.

The Doctor in blue snapped his book shut, left it on the table where the other one could reach it. 

“What are we thinking? Leisure planet?” 

“I dunno. We tried that yesterday,” Rose said. 

His face darkened infinitesimally, and the other Doctor’s eyes shot up.

“Not that I wouldn’t fancy another go,” Rose said, backtracking. “Could’ve been worse for a Thursday, right?”

“Maybe something else, then,” the Doctor in blue said.

“All right. You were talking about Woodstock?” Rose suggested.

“Ah.” The Doctor in blue cringed. 

“What?”

“We were already at Woodstock,” the Doctor in brown said. “Too many of us tends to twist up the timelines, and it’s already a bit--”

“Twisty.” The Doctor in blue grinned, but it felt a little off. “The Twisty Sixties, eh?”

“What about The Monterey Pop Festival? Jimi Hendrix burning his guitar?” the Doctor in brown asked. 

“Ooh, yes! People get that one mixed up with Woodstock all the time,” the Doctor in blue added. “Pop right in, not sure you’d even know the difference.”

Were they being weird, or was it her? 

Were they upset that she mixed them up, or was it something else?

The room felt like it was too small for the three of them, and they were here first.

“S’alright. Actually, I think I could use a little time to myself, and you were in the middle of something,” Rose said. “Maybe I’ll go watch a film, relax for a few hours.”

“We’ll be here,” the Doctor in brown said, and it felt like a dismissal.

“Right,” she said, something twisting uncomfortably in her stomach. “Later, then.”

\--

This film sucked.

She turned it off, flopping back onto the couch and shutting her eyes.

They  _ were _ being weird. She didn’t think they’d be cross about her mixing them up, but she also didn’t know why they were being weird if that wasn’t what it was. 

And they read in Gallifreyan sometimes, so it didn’t mean they were reading something secret, but then again, the way they’d shut the book and folded the tablet up felt sort of secretive.

She should ask, she knew she should, but when she thought about what it would feel like to walk back into the study and directly ask them what they were doing, she remembered how she felt last night, disoriented, no way to tell them apart, and she felt herself shrink back down. Maybe they  _ were _ cross, or, worse,  _ hurt _ . Maybe she needed to give them space.

Surely Blueberry would be by soon.

Usually, if she waited long enough in the media room, he was the one who would come for a visit. 

That was another way to tell them apart, she thought, despite herself: He liked the bad reality shows, and the nature programmes, and the rom coms. Sometimes the three of them watched together, too, but the Doctors - plural - really only liked to watch telly when they were getting sleepy. And the Doctor in blue slept more, so…

Of course, then it was Brownie who showed up, because no matter how she tried to tell them apart, she still couldn’t predict what they’d do.

“Hi,” he said, when he peeked his head into the room. She could see the lapel on his suit jacket, so she knew, right away, she knew.

“Hey.”

“We thought, maybe a visit to Cardiff? See if we can wrangle up Mickey, Martha, and Jack? What do you think?” 

His tone was tentative, but -- this was a good sign, surely?

“Yeah,” she said. “That sounds great.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to scullywolf and crazygirlne for keeping in touch with me since 2014 and also for their help and beta work on this story!
> 
> A note here that this story & series largely ignores Torchwood continuity in favor of a universe where Jack's team stays whole and happy.

The bartender recognised them, now. Then again, Rose reckoned they stood out. But, really, she couldn’t remember the last time they’d been somewhere three times when travelling with the Doctor, or Doctors, other than to see her mum. It was beginning to feel like  _ their  _ place - hers, the Doctors, and their friends.

It made the weird feelings she’d had before they landed fade a bit. They were all here, together, so the Doctors couldn’t be  _ that _ upset with her. And seeing Jack always helped everything in her weird world feel normal.

“My team wants to meet you next time,” Jack said, taking his spot at the edge of the large booth. Martha and Mickey sat next to him with Martha in the middle. Across, Rose was between the two Doctors. A round of beers on the table made space a little sparse, but they’d manage to fit the nachos somehow.

“You’d like Tosh, Doctor, she’s our technical expert,” Martha said, looking at the one in brown, then pausing to look at the one in blue. “Er, Doctors. Sorry.”

“Sure, they’d like Tosh, ‘cept she’d want to study them two under a microscope,” Mickey added.

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of academic study,” the Doctor in blue said, “so long as she’s not evil Torchwood using that knowledge to rip a hole in the universe. Could do without a repeat of that.”

“Not Tosh,” Martha said. “She’s highly ethical. And brilliant. Really, it’s a great team.”

“Everyone’s gone all Torchwood,” the Doctor in brown muttered under his breath.

“Jealous?” Jack asked, leaning forward to give the Doctor a light slap on the shoulder.

“ _ Hardly _ . There’s nothing Torchwood’s doing that I couldn’t--” At the look from everyone at the table, Rose included, he stopped. Cleared his throat. “I mean. You’ve got yourself some fine teammates here, Jackie-boy.”

“Thanks, Brownie.”

“Granted, half of them used to be  _ my _ companions, but...” 

“To the Doctor!” Jack raised his glass.

The Doctor in brown cringed. “No, no, no, don’t--”

“Our best source for training and staffing Torchwood, short of the academy itself!”

“To the Doctor!” everyone echoed, even the Doctor in blue. (He really didn’t mind poking fun at himself, where his other self was concerned.)

“All right, all right, cheers,” the Doctor in brown said, taking a sip of his own beer.

\--

They weren’t drinking shots this time. Just eating a meal, and having a pint, and enjoying some company, which was more Rose’s style than getting sloshed. After the night before, that purple gas making her woozy, making her forget who she was talking to, she wanted to keep her wits about her. So she merely nursed her pint. But no one else was on more than their second either. And the Doctors seemed -- well, fine, really. It was a relief.

“How about a game?” Jack asked. “What do you think: never have I ever?”

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey said. “Could be fun.”

“I suppose Cards Against Humanity won’t be out for a few years yet,” the Doctor in blue said, taking a sip of his beer. “Rose? Martha?” (Evidently he didn’t need to ask the other Doctor.)

They nodded.

“So who wants to go first?” Jack asked. 

“I’ll do it,” Mickey said. “Never have I ever… shoplifted.” 

“You have too,” Rose said, though she lifted her beer and sipped. So did Martha, Jack, and both Doctors.

“Doesn’t count if it’s accidental,” Mickey said with a smirk.

“Doesn’t it?” Martha asked. “If not, I take mine back.”

“It does,” Rose said, and glared at Mickey until he took a sip. “And, Mick, if you’re going to play it that way, I can make it two. Never have I ever… run down the street in my pants.” 

Mickey frowned, but drank. Jack drank too. 

“No?” Jack asked, his question directed at the Doctors. 

“We tend to err on the side of overdressing,” the Doctor in blue said. “Now, if you’d said never have I ever run _after someone else_ who was running down the street in their pants--” He drank, as did the other Doctor.

“Wait, I want to get back to the part where  _ you _ ran down the street in  _ your _ pants,” said Martha, looking at Mickey. 

“I was sneaking out of Sheila Johnson’s flat when her mum came home early. I was sixteen.”

“Sheila’s mum had a slap almost as mean as my mum’s,” Rose said to the Doctors. “Jack, you go!”

“Hmm. Never have I ever… lost a bidding war to a pair of Wrightosaurs at a Fluren Temporal Bazaar,” Jack said, before taking a sip of his own beer.

Both Doctors drank, and the one in brown cleared his throat after. “You realise you’re playing it wrong.” 

“You’re only playing it wrong if you don’t drink,” Jack replied with a wink.

“All right,” Martha said. “Got one for this group. Never have I ever died and then miraculously come back to life.”

Jack and both Doctors drank. 

“I dunno about  _ miraculously, _ ” the Doctor in brown said, “it’s basic Time Lord biology.”

“Our friends are odd,” she fake whispered to Mickey.

“Well, Martha Jones, you’re not exactly typical yourself,” the Doctor in brown said. “How about: never have I ever performed open heart surgery on a Parsnip-Crab hybrid in the Gendron Nebula.”

Martha shrugged and drank a sip, a smile blossoming on her face.

“I got one. Never have I ever lived on the TARDIS full-time,” said Mickey.

Everyone else drank. 

“Hmm. Never have I ever pressed a button on the TARDIS for a full thirty minutes longer than required,” the Doctor in brown said.

Mickey drank.

The Doctor in brown turned down his bottom lip, thoughtful. “Never have I ever mistaken Millard Filmore for Alec Baldwin.”

Mickey drank. 

Rose shrugged and took a sip too. “I mean, I knew where we were, but he really did look like Alec Baldwin...”

“Oh! Never have I ever accidentally called Jackie ‘mum,’” the Doctor in blue said. 

Mickey waited a beat, now looking annoyed at both Doctors.

“C’mon, Mickety-Mick,” the Doctor in blue said, giving him a slightly-too-saccharine smile.

Mickey took a sip. He looked at Rose expectantly.

“Well, I call her ‘mum’ on purpose, don’t I?” Rose said. 

“I see how it is,” Mickey said. “Fine then. Never have I ever… had a threesome.”

Both Doctors scoffed:

“Really? Is  _ that _ where your mind goes?”

“Really? Is  _ that _ where your mind goes?”

Rolling their eyes, both the Doctors drank, as did Rose and Jack.

“It’s proper freaky when they do that,” Mickey said, looking at Rose. “I dunno how you even tell them apart.” 

Rose’s stomach dropped, her face quickly growing hot.

“Mickey,” Martha interjected, looking at Rose.

Mickey was looking between the two Doctors, evaluating. “Other than the suits. That is, if you’re wearing the same suits as last time. Are you? The blue one’s the new one, right? Hah. Did ya do that because it rhymes?”

“Mickey,” Martha repeated, louder.

“All right,” Mickey said, “Fine. Never have I ever… eaten a whole pint of Cherry Garcia in one sitting.”

Martha took a sip. Rose drained the rest of her pint, the glass hitting the table with a thump. 

Mickey frowned at her. “Rose, thought you hated cherries.”

“I need to use the loo,” Rose said, shoving some of her weight against the Doctor in blue until he shifted.

“Are you alright?” the Doctor in blue asked. 

“Rose?” That was the other Doctor.

“Just got to wee.” She ducked her head down as she walked away from the table.

\--

Rose took her time in the stall, then washed her hands, rinsed her face, dried it, and rinsed it again. She looked at her reflection, red spots on her cheeks, water droplets clinging to the hair at her temples. 

If they hadn’t noticed last night, they’d know now, what a right mess she was when it came to them being different, and the same, and her being caught out with it. 

_ Why _ was this bothering her so much?

It hadn’t been that long, but it had been weeks or months; life on the TARDIS being hard to track as it was, and it had never bothered her, how hard she had to work at keeping them sorted in her mind until -- until last night. 

Did the fog do something to make her feel this way?

Or, deep down, had she known it was only a matter of time until she bollixed it up, and now that she had, this was the fall out?

She had to get  _ over _ it. 

But how could she get over it when it was just going to happen again, and soon enough they’d realise she couldn’t keep track? If she couldn’t keep track, they’d think she couldn’t handle any of it, and they’d drop her off in France with her mum, and--

_ That _ was her mind running away with her. But that was also the crux of it, wasn’t it?

She closed her eyes, focussing on her breathing with the techniques she’d learned at Torchwood. 

A moment later, there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Rose?” It was Martha.

“Come in.” Rose grabbed another paper towel and dried her face. 

“Hey. I suppose you don’t need to hear from me that Mickey can be a bit oblivious sometimes.” 

“It’s not his fault,” Rose said. “They were ganging up on him.”

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“I’m fine. It’s nothing anyone else did. I’m just… working through something, I guess.” 

Martha took a step closer, so she was facing Rose, and gently took her hand. Martha’s palm was warm, and Rose’s own felt embarrassingly clammy and cold in contrast.

“I think it’s complicated, sometimes, being with the Doctor?” Martha smiled. “I didn’t spend as much time with him as you did. But, I had a lot of days where I needed to slow down and give myself a moment to breathe. And that was with just one of him.”

Rose squeezed Martha’s hand. “Thank you.”

  
“Should I tell them you’ll be a few more minutes? They looked a little bit concerned…” 

“I can imagine,” Rose said, a nervous chuckle escaping her. “No. It’s fine. Let’s head back.”

\--

When she sat back down at the booth, it felt like all eyes were on her. Definitely both Doctors and Jack, and Mickey was doing that thing where he radiated ‘kicked puppy’ energy. 

“Sorry, everyone. I didn’t mean to ruin the game,” Rose said. “Think I’m just a little overtired.”

“When I’m tired, I can’t even have one drink,” Martha said, looking like she was trying to be charitable. “It makes it loads worse.”

“They running you around too hard?” Jack asked, sipping his drink as he looked between Rose and the Doctors.

“No, ‘course not,” Rose said. “I’d speak up if that were the case.”

There was a pause, silence falling across the table. It lingered a little too long, until Martha cleared her throat.

“Rose, we’re going for a visit to your mum’s next week,” she said.

Bless Martha Jones. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said, “Jackie kept nagging and nagging me about introducing her to Martha. What was it she said?” (He raised his voice an octave.) “‘You’re mine too, now, Mickey. Where I come from, bringing home the girlfriend is…”

  
Rose chimed in as Mickey finished, laughing: “Not up for negotiation!”

The Doctor and blue looked over at Martha. “Ooh, Martha. You’re going to have fun with that one.” 

“I am?”

“Don’t listen to him. She’s going to love you, Martha,” Rose said. “So will Pete and Tony.”

“Oh, that’s right, your brother! I wasn’t even thinking about -- what can I bring him?” Martha asked. “Does he like anything specific?”

“Race cars,” Rose said. “Definitely race cars.”

Martha looked like she was mentally jotting that down. 

“One big happy family,” Jack said. “Warms my heart.”

\--

From there, the group seemed to get back on track, chatting, finishing their beers and their food, until yawns started overtaking the fully-human members of the group.

After paying and clearing out of the pub, they walked down towards the Roald Dahl Plass. The TARDIS stood in the background, illuminated by the lighted beams scattered along the pavement. 

The group said their goodbyes, giving hugs and pats on the shoulder. When it was Rose’s turn to say goodbye to Jack, she ducked in for a hug, enjoying the feel of the wool of his greatcoat against her cheek.

“Call me later,” Jack said, low in her ear. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then turned his attention to the Doctors. “You two: be good.” 

“Who, us?” the one in blue said.

“Mmmhmm,” Jack said, pointing his pointer and middle fingers at his eyes, and then at them.

\--

Once Rose got into the TARDIS, she felt completely knackered. She could tell the Doctors were trying to stop themselves from hovering, but she felt silly, for earlier, for the night before, which threatened to spike back up into feeling embarrassed all over again and…

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Rose said, trailing down the hallway from the console room towards their bedroom. “Are you tired?” 

“We’ll stay with you,” the Doctor in brown said. 

It was the right answer.

She changed into her jimjams, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed in quick order. The Doctors stripped down into their pants and undershirts, sliding under the covers after her on either side. It wasn’t often that they all went to sleep together, since the Doctors slept so much less, and Rose took a moment to relish the feeling of cuddling close to them.

“You can tell us anything, Rose,” said the Doctor in blue. “If there’s something wrong.”

“I know,” she said, letting her eyes slip closed and snuggling in deeper.

But could she?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to scullywolf & crazygirlne for their help with this story! Two chapters to go!

When she woke up, she was alone, which wasn’t terribly unusual, but which surprised her a little in light of how they’d gone to bed the night before. The Doctors had been sweet, holding her quietly, letting her drift off even though neither of them needed the rest. She did, though. She’d slept like a rock. Maybe she was also feeling a little better this morning.

As she thought of the night before, she waited for the embarrassment to spike heat in her stomach, but it felt a little weaker. That was good. She could work with that.

Taking her time to get up, change into some blue jeans, and brush her teeth, she eventually found her way to the galley. The Doctors were sat at the table again, and they lit up as she walked in.

“Rose!” The Doctor in brown smiled at her. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she said, taking her seat at the table.

“You in the mood for a fry up?” the one in blue asked.

Her stomach growled. “Sure.”

The Doctor in blue moved over to the fridge, then the stovetop, getting to work. 

“We were doing a little research,” the Doctor in brown said, voice nonchalant. “That’s why we left, last night, instead of staying with you until you woke up. We were able to reconstruct the chemical composition of the fog.”

“Doctor,” Rose said, “I told you, I’m fine, all the tests came back--”

“Clean as a whistle,” the Doctor said, “that’s right. But, the fog itself, if we’re not mistaken -- and we rarely are -- it may have caused a slight inhibition of the plasmalemmal transporter-mediated reuptake of your neurotransmitters. Specifically, GABA and serotonin, which is to say--”

“A side effect,” the Doctor in blue said, dropping some diced tomatoes off a cutting board and into a pan. “That’s all. You’re in perfect health.”

“GABA and serotonin,” Rose said. “So that relates to, what, relaxation?”

“Sort of the inverse,” the Doctor in brown said. “Interference with those neurotransmitters can lead to... anxiety.” 

“Oh.” Rose pursed her lips. “Right.”

“Have you noticed yourself feeling a touch more anxious than usual in the last couple of days?” the Doctor in brown asked, voice innocent.

“I think we can be more direct than that,” the Doctor in blue said. “Rose, we were concerned because you’ve seemed a little bit off since we got back from Volea, though we knew your physical health was fine after the tests. We did some research, and we think you might be suffering from a side effect from the fog. It’s temporary, and you should gradually start to feel better across the next few days.”

  
“And we can  _ really _ take some time for leisure until then,” the Doctor in brown said. “Watch some films, go for a swim in the pool, read a few new books in the library -- you name it.” 

“So, how I’ve been feeling is because--” She stopped. “I’d wondered, last night. I should’ve realised.”

“Rose,” the Doctor in brown placed his hand on hers. “We disagree. It’s not easy to notice changes to your brain’s chemistry. It’s subtle. And it’s not as though the fog manifested feelings or issues you’ve never thought about before. The chemical piece is important, very important, but that’s just one part.”

“So, the fog didn’t  _ cause _ how I feel, but--”

“It might have exacerbated it. A touch.”

“Right,” she said, biting her lip.

The Doctor in blue sat down at the table, placing a plate in front of each of them. She was hungry, so she distracted herself by eating methodically. They ate in a loaded kind of silence. Not tense, but like they were deliberately giving her time to think.

Once all three of them had finished, empty plates strewn about the table, and the silence continued, she realised they were waiting to see whether she’d speak. She thought about what to say.

“It makes sense, now that you mention it,” she said, looking down. “I felt worse the last two days, but it was about things I’ve thought about before.”

“Like what?” the Doctor in brown asked. He paused. “If you want to tell us.”

“It’s just gonna sound stupid, saying it out loud,” she said. 

“It won’t,” the Doctor in blue said. “The chemicals will take a few days to work themselves out of your system, but talking will help you feel better. Us too.”

She looked at the other Doctor, who nodded. 

“All right. S’just… I’ve never done this before, right? Any of this, and not just the obvious. I’ve never lived with a…” (Boyfriend? Partner? Significant other?) “... With another person, who I’m  _ with _ , let alone two, and I’ve never actually been with more than one person before, though I suppose that’s obvious…”

They were looking at her, quiet, supportive expressions identical.

“And you’re the same person, and also, not? And I’ve just been trying to make sure I don’t mess it up.”

That was a start, she thought. Getting out what it was she was feeling.

“You’re not messing anything up, Rose,” the Doctor in blue said. 

Now that she’d started talking, saw how kind they were being, she felt the rest of it bubbling up for her, ready to spill over.

  
“Of course you’re going to say that, you’re both so great with all this stuff, it never fazes you, but for me…” She stopped. “I’ve tried to make sure I don’t get it all… mixed up. Who said what, who I watched which programme with, which one of you likes a banana and peanut butter sandwich, and which one of you only likes bananas on their own.” (Easy, it was the one in blue who liked the sandwich; he ate everything.)

She continued. “I’ve been trying to make sure I treat you each like individuals, but also… treat you both like the Doctor. And it’s complicated, right? But it felt like it mattered, keeping track of things that are unique about each of you, so I could make each of you feel… like I knew, that you’re each your own person. I guess, if I just kept it all clear, then it meant I could handle this thing we were doing. And when I was all loopy from the fog, I just-- I lost track. I didn’t know which of you was which, and it was obvious that I’d lost track, and it felt like I’d failed.”

She couldn’t go as far as to say what she felt that  _ failure _ could lead to. Instead, she stared at a stray piece of tomato on the table that had seemed to have fallen off of the Doctor in blue’s plate. It was a little bit blurry.

“And then when Mickey was saying all that stuff about ‘how I even tell you apart,’ it just brought it back. It sounds daft, I know, when I’m saying it, but that’s what it was.”

The Doctor in brown stood up, holding out his hand to her. The other Doctor had also stood, and once she did as well, they pulled her into a tight group hug. 

“It’s not daft, Rose.” One of them was speaking into her hair. “This is new to you, to all of us, and there’s no handbook.”

She felt herself welling up. “I love our life together, and the core of it is going so, so well. I love you both so much. But it’s the little things, too, sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I dunno... when the three of us are together, I’ve no way to properly differentiate between you, when I have something to say to only one of you. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m putting  _ too _ much emphasis on your individuality. I know you’re both the Doctor. It’s just a stupid human thing, needing to categorise and--”

“Rose,” the Doctor in brown gently broke away, and the three of them stepped apart. “It’s not stupid. You can refer to us individually. Call us whatever you want.”

She crossed her arms, sniffing. “Really? Like what?” 

  
“Well, Jack’s already done the ‘Brownie’ and ‘Blueberry’ thing. You use them sometimes. They’re as good as any other. So long as Mickey the Idiot doesn’t go around thinking he can use it.”

“I thought you hated those names.” 

The Doctor in blue ruffled the back of his hair. “Sure, it’s not what I’d’ve chosen, but then we chose ‘the Doctor,’ which, we’ve been told, is also a title, a degree, a profession…”

“Arguably because  _ we  _ started the trend,” the Doctor in brown said. 

“Point is, it makes sense you need a way to refer to us sometimes.” The Doctor in blue sat back down at the table. “Other than, ‘oi, you with the banana sandwich.’”

“He’s right. Feel free. You have special privileges.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” The Doctor in brown smiled, idly lacing his fingers with hers, and giving her that kind of focussed attention he reserved for rare instances. “You’ve done such a great job with everything. You’ve taken to this life beautifully with everything: the TARDIS, all of time and space, saving the world, and, now, our relationship. And, being terribly clever and observant, we’ve noticed how you take time to remember the details. I can obviously speak for both of us when I say it touches me more deeply than you know that you care so much about us.”

“But…” the Doctor in brown continued, “You can mix us up, sometimes, Rose. We don’t care. Do we?”

“Nope!” the Doctor in blue said. “Apart from the fact that we want you to feel comfortable… we can communicate telepathically. If you say something I’m confused by, I’ll ask him if he knows what you meant. It’s fine, it happens all the time.”

Rose must have looked sceptical. 

The Doctor in brown continued. “Rose, we’ve mixed ourselves up with our other selves plenty of times. I’ve genuinely lost track of whether this is our tenth or eleventh regeneration.”

“Not counting me,” the Doctor in blue added.

“Right, not counting him.”

“But we’re not going to be upset, or offended, or hurt if you get a wire crossed once in a while. We’d be more alarmed if you didn’t.”

She must have looked like she needed more convincing. The Doctor in brown gave her hand a squeeze and let it go. “Rose, to us, it makes perfect sense that we can both be the Doctor and be different people as well. And we know it’s going to be twisted, complicated, confusing, timey wimey. That’s a part of it too for us, this life. We just don’t take it so seriously. We’re still the Doctor.” 

The Doctor in blue smiled at her and she felt one tugging at her lips in return. “We’re not saying this to tell you what you’re feeling isn’t valid. And we know it’s not always possible to just turn off something that makes you feel embarrassed or upset, but we hope you’ll remember you don’t need to feel that way out of concern for how  _ we’re _ feeling.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll try to remember that.” 

“Good,” they said, one an echo of the other.

She felt some calm settling into her. She felt like maybe she could take the time to process how she was feeling, with learning to keep them separate while also keeping them together as “the Doctor” in her mind, if she could let go of the worry about what they were feeling any time she mucked a little thing up. She was grateful they’d given her the space to air that out. 

“I have to admit, it’s nice to know what the two of you have been doing, heads down researching the last couple of days.”

“Oh,” the Doctor in blue said. 

“Er,” added the Doctor in brown.

“What?” Rose asked.

“Well.” The Doctor in brown sat down, crossing his legs. “That was last night. Reconstructing a chemical compound based on limited knowledge of an alien plant life cycle, its color, and your assessment of its scent -- between the two of us? It took, what?”

“Two hours,” the Doctor in blue said.

“Tops.”

“I mean, we’re brilliant.”

“Incredibly clever.”

“Then what have you been doing?” Rose asked. “I thought maybe you were upset with me, or avoiding me, after Volea, but… the books? The tablet? The mathematical theorems? I’m not crazy, right? You were up to something.”

  
“Rose Tyler, you are entirely too observant. You’re right, but that touches on something _ we’ve _ been anxious about,” the Doctor in blue said. “C’mon.” He stood up and motioned for her to do the same. “We’ll show you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!  
> Thanks to scullywolf & crazygirlne! :)

They took her back to the study and gestured to the worn leather sofa. She sat, resting her sock-clad feet on the scratched wooden coffee table, and watched curiously as the Doctor in blue sat down on a nearby chair and the Doctor in brown stood in front of them, framed by a large bookcase on either side. Apparently, this was his show, and she had no idea where he was going with it.

“Twenty-first century British humans who live past sixty-five have a life expectancy of eighty-nine years,” he said. “Of those eighty-nine years,  _ maybe _ the first seventy-eight or so are high quality, physically and mentally, for someone with an above-average fitness level. And that’s a best case scenario.” 

Rose shifted her glance from the Doctor in brown to the one in blue, who appeared relatively relaxed where he sat. He leaned forward and spoke. “Rose, those eighty-nine years are a best case scenario  _ in twenty-first century Britain _ . If you’re staying with us, really staying with us on the TARDIS, permanently, then-- medically, technologically, we’re not bound by twenty-first century Britain anymore. We have  _ options _ .”

The Doctor in brown turned around, grabbing a handful of textbooks that were on the nearest shelf. Putting them down on the coffee table, and grabbing the one on top, he sat next to her on the sofa, between where she and the other Doctor were sat. He flipped open the book, pointing at a medical diagram she’d need to study closer to interpret.

“Only two hundred years after your time, they figure out how to lengthen the telomeres to slow natural aging, and life expectancy in humans triples, barring injuries.” He turned the page in the book, voice serious. “In twenty-seventh century New Franconia, they perfect micro-surgery treating acute physical trauma, essentially eradicating mortality causes related to lacerations and punctures. And those are just two examples of improvements in medical technologies across all of time and space. Some of it, New Earth, the year five billion, that’s too far away, too much evolution at play to be compatible with your DNA, but there are changes right in the few centuries after your time that make huge differences in life expectancy and medical outcomes.”

“That’s great, Doctor, but why are you saying all this now?” Rose asked. “We’ve been to the twenty-seventh century before. You never mentioned their medical advances or anything about how long those humans live.”

“Rose. We’ve never  _ kept _ anyone before. We’ve always put people back where we found them, or near enough, anyway. We always assumed, someday, you’d go back to your beans on toast and living ‘round the corner from Jackie, and, now we know, that-- ” 

“That I’m staying with you forever.”

“Right.”

“Which I’ve been saying all along.” 

“Yes. Exactly!” The Doctor in brown shut the book, leaving it on top of the pile.

“What, can I literally live forever?” she asked.

She imagined what it would be like, never having to watch him watch  _ her  _ get older, or leave Brownie all alone.

“No. No. Not forever.” The Doctor in brown said. “Even I won’t live forever. But if you’re going to live on the TARDIS, and stay with us for good, then we can think about what that would look like.”

The Doctor in blue cleared his throat. “There’s a lot to talk about, and it’s the kind of thing we’d want to keep talking about over the course of the next few years, decades even, not the next few hours. But, if you’re open to it, we want you to know what we’re researching in here.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Rose said. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” That was the Doctor in brown. 

“No, I want to. Obviously, I’ve always wanted to -- to be there for you, for you both, now, and not… ‘wither and die.’ And I knew there were other species, other times, when humans live longer, but I didn’t think you’d ever…”

“Me neither,” said the Doctor in brown. “I wouldn’t have. Definitely not before Canary Wharf, when we were first travelling together, and not right after we got you back, when I thought you’d be better off with him having a normal life. No.” 

He saw the look on her face. It must have been questioning. “Not because we didn’t want to. But because it’s a _ crime _ .” (Rose felt something sharp in her gut at the word.) “Stealing someone from their time and place, their home. And the timelines get all… I’d never have considered it. Before.”

“I might credit myself with talking him into it,” the Doctor in blue said. “I mean, if we’d met you in the 16th century, would we set the limit of our intervention at the ripe old age of thirty-five? That’s what your eighty-nine years looks like to us, with all of time and space at our fingertips. And the timelines are already a little complicated where the three of us are concerned. So, why  _ not _ keep you as long as you want, once you know all of your options?”

“But…” The Doctor in brown looked ahead at a spot in the distance, his voice low. “There are things you have no way of understanding. When you live on the TARDIS, when this is really the life you live, forever, you commit to leaving everyone else on the slow path. Your visits with your mum, Mickey, Martha -- everyone but Jack -- they’re limited.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, you can  _ borrow  _ them for a while. Or you can visit every day, for  _ them _ , if the TARDIS cooperates, but it still won’t be enough. You’ll stretch out the timelines, watching them get older. And one day, it starts to make sense not to go back at all, because that way they’re always still there, and you’re never sure if it's the last time you saw them, because you’ve left a little room, still.” 

She felt her eyes welling up for him and pressed her lips together, placing a hand on his sleeve and squeezing his arm. His eyes shot to her, a little glassy. 

“So when we tell you this idea, it’s not something to take lightly. It’s not something to decide now. I can’t properly explain to you what it would mean to leave your friends and family on that slow path, and to know you’ll spend many, many more years without them than you ever did with them. The pain of that. I can’t tell you whether it would be worth it. That’s for you to think about. But--” He stopped.

“What?” she asked.

“We want your permission, to save you, if we need to, by any means necessary.”

“Doctor?” She furrowed her brow.

The one in blue spoke. “That’s the ‘medical outcomes’ part. There are better medical treatments available across all of time and space.”

“I don’t follow.”

“We worry,” the Doctor in blue continued. “When you’re in danger, and…” (She was about to interject, but he saw her look, and held up a hand, nodding.) “It’s the life we lead, the life you’ve chosen, we know. But... It’s like Volea -- for all we know, that entire town is filled with people experiencing a chemical imbalance, and we’re off on our merry way. That’s for them to sort out. The way we save the day is good enough for everyone else, but it’s not good enough for you. When we see you get, I dunno, stuck in an airtight cave, or passed out cold in front of the TARDIS...”

“Well, to use a human analogy: it’s not good for our blood pressure,” the Doctor in brown finished.

“So, we’ve been documenting specific… issues that could pop up,” the Doctor in blue said, “and researching where in space and time the best treatments are, and our next step would be to retrieve the items needed for those treatments and have them on hand, or program coordinates into the TARDIS to take us there, for things we can’t do ourselves.” He shrugged. “Just in case.”

“What kind of issues?” This sounded  _ involved _ .

“Common medical complications that could be associated with our lifestyle. To take the airtight cave as an example. Suppose we’d not gotten you out as early and you’d experienced moderate hypoxia -- lack of oxygen to the brain. In your time, they give oxygen via nasal cannula, and that works quite well. But, in the fiftieth century, they have something called an oxygen bomb--”

The Doctor in brown interrupted, “It’s not as violent as it sounds.”

“Right, it’s quite safe. And it’s eighty-seven percent more effective than nasal oxygen delivery from your time.”

“So you want my permission to set a bomb off in my face?” Rose asked.

“We want you to understand what this could mean,” the Doctor in brown said. “Some of the treatments that are more effective could be traceable on a twenty-first century medical exam. They wouldn’t know what they were seeing, but they’d know you had, let’s say, evidence of a newly discovered element in your blood, a mysteriously faulty test, and no explanation as to why.”

“You’re saying you want to use alien or future tech for medical interventions,” Rose guessed.

“Yes. Potentially. If necessary.” The Doctor in brown paused. “I’m -- we’re --saying, if we use our best discretion in how to treat you medically, your system could be exposed to future tech that shouldn’t  _ be _ on twenty-first century Earth. So if you say yes, it’s a commitment to be deliberate about how and whether you live on twenty-first century Earth again.”

“I see. Well, I’ve already made that commitment,” Rose said. “I’ve told you. I’m staying forever. Whatever that looks like.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say, but it’s important that we asked,” said the Doctor in blue. “If we have to use any of these treatments, we’ll always ask you, and explain everything, if we can. But, sometimes, we don’t get that chance in this sort of life. So we wanted to ask you now. Before our log gets too long.”

“Your log?”

“A list of possible Rose Tyler maladies and the best treatments for each in all of time and space.” The Doctor in brown shrugged. “The tablet. I can show you it once I translate it over from Gallifreyan.”

“That’s not half morbid,” she said.    
  


“I know. You’re absolutely right,” the Doctor in brown said. “But this is the stuff that would keep me up at night, metaphorically speaking. I feel better thinking it all through and having a plan.”

Like Emergency Programme One, she thought. 

“And you?” she asked, turning to the Doctor in blue.

“Well, we were speaking of differences earlier, and I believe I came out a teensy tad less preoccupied with the human lifespan than my counterpart, but yes. If something were to happen to you…” His face got a shade darker. “So, we figured, this is an insurance policy. And it happens to have been designed by the two cleverest people in existence.”

She thought for a second, about how the Doctors had their own weak spot when it came to anxiety about her and their relationship, and it caused a twinge of sadness in her, but also made her feel, perhaps, a little kinder to herself about her own worries.

“You have my permission,” she said. “And thank you, for wanting to keep me safe.”

The Doctor in brown broke into a wide smile and swept her up in a tight seated hug. The one in blue watched, this time, a smile on his face as well. 

“We can talk about the lifespan stuff another time?” Rose asked. 

“Give it a few years to marinate,” the Doctor in blue said. “It’s not the kind of choice to rush.”

\--

They spent the rest of the day relaxing, reading in the study, checking on the latest crop of bacas in the garden, watching entirely too many episodes of her favorite space soaps, and cooking a particularly involved three-course supper. It was enough to soothe all of the angst she’d been feeling since getting back from Volea, or maybe even the worry she’d been feeling before that.

If they were thinking of ways to keep her safe, and to really  _ keep _ her forever(-ish), then they weren’t on the precipice of leaving her in France the second she made a mistake.

It sounded silly as she thought it. Of course they weren’t. They loved her. 

For that matter, she’d fought hard to get back to him, and she’d fought hard to bring the three of them together. If Brownie left her in France, she’d track his skinny arse down again. She’d done it before.

But the talk, giving voice to her feelings, listening to them voice their own anxieties, and having them offer up a true, permanent life on the TARDIS -- it was a balm to her. 

She was never leaving, and they’d finally cottoned on to it and, what’s more, welcomed it.

That night, when she climbed into bed, she was by herself -- neither Doctor was tired quite yet, and she suspected they were working on the log. But even as she pulled the covers up to her chin in the big, empty bed, she didn’t feel alone at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to scullywolf & crazygirlne for all the support!
> 
> Rating change - here be smut!
> 
> This is it for this story. Thank you for reading!

In the morning, relatively speaking, they were both there, like an inverse of the day before. She woke up warm, snuggled in between them, her head on one Doctor’s bicep, his hand loosely draped around her waist. His breathing was slow, warm puffs of air just barely brushing her ear. She thought he might be asleep, but she’d have to look to be certain. 

The one in front of her was awake, sleepy expression sweet. The lights were very low, and she felt herself soften under his gaze. She resisted the urge to categorise, to look at the rise and fall of his chest and compare it to the Doctor behind her. To play the odds about who slept more, and whose breath was warmer. 

“Hi,” the Doctor in front of her said. 

“Morning,” she said. 

“I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I show you?” he asked. She nodded.

He leaned in and kissed her, gradually pressing his lips to hers more fully, until she couldn’t help but open her mouth to him and lean towards him. 

A frisson of heat curled low in her stomach, and she let her hand find its way into his hair and curl behind his ear. He reacted enthusiastically, shifting towards her, and bringing his hand to her hip. 

The Doctor behind her inhaled with a start, and the hand that had been resting limply on her waist tightened. He stilled, but as the moments passed, his breathing became quicker. She could feel his hips pressing into her from behind. They were usually hard when they woke up, morning stiffies like human males, but there was a difference between that and arousal -- she could feel him lengthening against her.

His hand drifted down from her waist to her navel, fingers slipping under the cotton of her knickers. He rested his hand there, fingers occasionally twitching, and bent down to focus his efforts on thoroughly kissing her neck.

“Rose,” the Doctor said in her ear. “We want to turn the lights off now. And we want you not to worry about who’s who. Will that be alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, breaking off the kiss. She was breathless, but she turned around to kiss the Doctor behind her, interrupting his attention on her neck. When she was done giving him a thorough snog, she pulled in the one in front of her in again.

Neither of them had stopped what they were doing, but the lights around them dimmed, then turned off entirely. The one behind let his hand slip lower, fingertips drifting up and down, then parting her lips and pressing in. 

The Doctor in front of her didn’t stop kissing her, but moved closer, pushing one of his legs in between hers, and letting her press against it as the one behind her took his time moving a finger in and out. Then, he moved his hand from her hip up to her breast, teasing her through her shirt. When the other moved his fingers into  _ just _ the right spot for her to grind against the Doctor’s leg properly, she had to break off to breathe, and let out a curse for good measure.

His hand moved under her shirt, now, rubbing and gently pinching one breast, then the other, She couldn’t concentrate on kissing anymore, the heat building, so she broke away and buried her face in his neck, sucking on a spot just under his ear. She was grabbing him, holding him tightly, so she could shift her hips, keep him right  _ there _ , and feel him close.

The Doctor behind her was murmuring words of encouragement, alternating between kissing down her neck and letting his breath hit the sensitive shell of her ear. His fingers didn’t have to move inside her, now, because she was setting the pace herself, but he was helping her along with his thumb at her clit. 

It was building, and she couldn’t do much but push against him, stretching, trying to get his fingers and the pressure from the other’s leg in just the right spot and --

She tumbled over, calling their name, her centre clenching around his finger.

When she recovered, she let the tight grip around the Doctor in front of her loosen, the one behind pulled away as well.

It was still dark, and they didn’t speak. As they moved to the side, a hand pressed gently at her shoulder and she let herself fall onto her back, catching her breath.

“You’re beautiful. We can picture you, even in the dark,” one of them said. “We’ve seen stars born, supernovas explode, supermassive black holes swallow up galaxies. Nothing compares.”

Her body was humming. She felt the mattress shifting, and could see a hint of a shadow move. She closed her eyes, giving herself over to it, the not knowing. 

A pair of hands grasped at the edge of her panties, giving her a second to acquiesce or object. She lifted her hips, and the Doctor pulled them down, leaving her slightly chilled. She took the hint, sitting up and taking off her shirt, throwing it in some direction she couldn’t see. She heard the rustling of clothing and thought maybe they were doing the same.

“We’re going to kiss you now.” 

No way to know who said it. No way to know whose lips were pressing against her breast, tonguing her nipple, and whose were down at the junction of her thighs, kissing their way up.

No way to know who was gently parting her legs open and pressing his lips and tongue to her, carefully, giving her time to warm again.

She wanted more, wanted to touch them. She reached out and found his chest, and he tried to catch her hand as it moved down, no doubt wanting this to only be about  _ her _ , but she placed it on her breast, encouraging him to squeeze the one not enjoying the attention of his mouth. 

“Okay?” she asked as she moved her hand down his body. 

“Yes. Rose--” 

She brushed her fingers against his length, and felt him groan against her chest, the vibrations hitting her sensitised skin. She stroked slowly, hand sloppy, starting to pay more attention to the way the other Doctor was building her up, lips and tongue focussed on her clit, a finger fucking her gently.

She needed more. 

“Doctor. I need--” 

He left her with one last kiss to her centre, then moved up her body. He’d taken off his clothes, she was right, and the one beside her left her breast damp and cool in the air, moving out of the way as the other settled himself on top of her, pressing against her core. 

She leaned forward and kissed him, and he braced himself, pushing inside. 

“We love you,” one of them said. 

“Love you both so much.”

He started to move, giving her a chance to adjust, and she craned her neck, trying to find the other Doctor. He found her first, kissing her deeply, and gasping into her mouth as she found herself and started stroking him in earnest.

She felt so full, electricity sparking down her spine and gathering in her stomach, pleasure building. The Doctor beside her was thrusting into her hand, kissing her lips, down her jaw, and back to her mouth again. 

The other rested his head near her ear, she could hear his breathing getting heavier as she started moving faster. 

The Doctor beside her slipped his hand down her side and to where she was joined with the other. He rubbed at her in tandem with her own rhythm on his length, and soon she was moving her hand faster, showing him how she wanted it, but-- 

He broke away from her kiss and said her name, and she felt wetness on her hand, kept her hand moving through it, until he stuttered, then stopped. Even after he was spent, he kept his fingers expertly dancing across her clit, keeping the pressure light enough, just there, right where she needed it--

She let herself fall, felt herself clench around the other, and he said her name in her ear, urgent, driving deeper, until finally he kissed her neck as he slowly, slowly stilled.

She kissed him, sweetly, and then turned to kiss the other Doctor. 

Eventually, they raised the lights, tumbling out of bed together, ready to clean up. Even as she watched two identical bums pad into the ensuite, she realised she didn’t know which was which, and that -- at the moment -- she didn’t much care. They were the Doctor.

\--

Time was hard to track on the TARDIS. For instance, the room’s lights were set to become dimmer or brighter based on whether the occupants were sleepy. Requests for the date or time of day were tied to the Gallifreyan calendar. But she reckoned it had been about a week since their big talk, and she was starting to feel loads better. 

Did this relationship take more time, attention, and observation than any other in the universe? Quite possibly. Was it going to be easy? Rarely, if ever.

Was she up to the task? Absolutely.

She felt less bruised with it, with the need to keep it all clear in her head, with the fear of what could happen if she didn’t.

Today, when she walked into the ensuite and found a Doctor at the sink, gargling with thirty-first century cinnamon sprig mouthwash, she was pretty sure it was the Doctor in blue, even though he was clad only in his black pants, but…

She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, and she let it go, grabbing the bottle of mouthwash herself and taking a swig.

Once fed, dressed, and ready for adventure, they arrived in the console room.

“Anywhen in particular?” the Doctor in brown asked. 

“Surprise me,” Rose said.


End file.
